


Into the Desert and Back Again: The Journeys of an angelic Devil (Part I)

by SunBathingDragon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mojave Desert, Multi, devils fun I mean, encounters with a ghost, fast car driving, fear of being controlled, fun of distraction, multiple miracles?, runner trails, some angst and a lot of fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunBathingDragon/pseuds/SunBathingDragon
Summary: When Lucifer flees to Vegas after Chloe's near-death, he stumbles across a wayward army, a running ghost and involuntarily sets the stage for his second, tanning desert encounters.Part I set after 2.13. Part II set at the end of/after 2.18; canon divergence





	1. Chapter 1: Desert Distractions and a Battered Army

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by so many beautiful fanfic stories, I fell for the temptation to starty my own headcanons. I am new to this craft, so be gentle with my first baby steps and pardon my un-beta-ed mistakes. Comments and kudos are very welcome, to help me improve! 
> 
> I do not own the TV shows' characters. I also borrowed them for (non-scientific) writing practice for my own joy, well, sort of. My respect for writers grew in the process.

Driving fast distracted him, always: The joy of speed combined with the joy of breaking the rules! The hot desert wind rushed through his hair as he sped down highway 15 from L.A. towards Vegas. He had carelessly stuffed some of his suits and belongings into a bag and tossed it into his back seat, threw out some orders for covering up his place, then left. He had to get away, to forget…

But the speed distraction alone was not sufficient this time. Lucifer still saw her pale face, her frail body, her shiny grey-blue eyes. And finally, when the danger of her death was averted, her hopeful smile, cutting though his heart. He was always amazed at how the colour of her eyes seemed to change with her moods, sometimes aqua and shiny, then green with anger or mischief, and the next moment grey and sad like the stormy sea. There was so much to her very being, her soul that he had hoped to discover over the years. How he had longed to just continue where they had left off, before his mom had ruined everything! How he longed to know nothing about the “miracle birth” story. To be near to her, to feel this infectious, radiating happiness again that overwhelmed him for a few glorious hours!

But he had to step away from her, had to leave. So that she would not become a target of his manipulating celestial family. So that she could get over him and be free of him. So that…. It hurt more than he had thought possible, a persistent, nagging pain in his left chest side that simply stuck, regardless of how fast he drove. He sighed and forced his thoughts away from her. He had to! To save her, but also to save himself! Only his damn thoughts jumped back to her every instant he did not rigorously control them, like playful kittens after a mouse. Damn his fighting, manipulative parents‼ He groaned and grinded his teeth, accelerating even further.

Of course violating the speed limit by driving “German Autobahn style”-like on Highway 15 called for (nicely distracting) trouble. He had already seduced two officers who had pulled him over for ignoring the speed limit. Again, he picked up promising motor cycle noise from far behind him with his supernatural senses. Heaving a sigh, his face contorted into a Cheshire cat grin. He braced himself for the next bribe…. but even _this_ got boring after some time. These last country officers from somewhere between Barstow and Beacon Station had been even easier to seduce than the LA ones: They all had some kind of kinky dreams that he lured out with ease. The last one, a heavy not-very-sportsman-like sweating guy in his middle fifties with a large grey moustache was highly amusing. He had even come up with the desire to win the next open-beach windsurfing championship in LA, although he had admitted right away that he was unable to swim!

Looking back in the mirror he saw that there was not just one bike, more like four or five, in about one mile distance back down the straight highway. The amount of roaring noise was indeed louder than it should be for the distance. Lucifer concluded that the roaring must have been deliberately tuned up for fun or intimidation (or for the fun of intimidation). Thus the bets were on that they belonged to one of these special biker club specimens, zoological Order and Family “drug dealer-and-panderer”, Species “bullying criminals”, disguised as freedom-seeking lonesome riders. He allowed them to roar a bit closer to take the bait that was him – a fancy Corvette and its snob driver, alone and undefended, good prey to play with in the middle of nowhere. The Devils thoughts, of course, went exactly into the same direction – _good prey to play with in the middle of nowhere_ \- for distraction. “ _And the detective is not around to hold me back…”_ again, he yanked his thoughts back from that unwanted path that was Chloe.

His trademark smirk crept across his face as he accelerated the Corvette, for fun plus gaining distance and time to come up with a plan. A pity Maze was not with him… but he was glad that she had promised, reluctnatly, to watch over Chloe and her spawn, as had Amenadiel. The straight highway heading for Baker started to turn to the left where it sharply descended, curving downwards, into a wide, breath-taking desert valley some hundred meters below, glowing in the late-afternoon sunlight. After two more ridges and downward turns, he spotted a viewpoint that was clearly visible from the street and blissfully deserted. He slowed down, stopped the car and stepped out, listening. Lighting a cigarette (the lighter surprisingly worked), he leaned elegantly on the fence, looking down and exhaling the smoke. Having a supernatural metabolism was clearly an advantage when one travelled in an open Cabriolet through the desert in a suit. Every other man would already have drowned in his own sweat without air conditioning, but Lucifer actually enjoyed the familiar hell-ischly hot breeze. Below, the colourful, sun-baked landscape stretched spectacularly from horizon to horizon. Due to the setting sun, Lucifer could feel the soft downward air movement of the cooling air on his face and hands, as it lazily seeped downhill towards the valley bottom.

The peaceful atmosphere was now pierced by bike noise as they came steadily closer, but still they were about one third of a mile away. Lucifer took his eyes from the valley, flicked the ash off his cigarette and turned around, still leaning nonchalantly against the fence and glancing up the road. “ _Ah, how lovely! These idiots again_ ” he growled under his breath, as five motorcycles of the “Devils Army” Biker Club came into his (far-reaching) sight, riding their chrome blinking, martial-style-like Harley Davidsons. _Devils Army, my ass!_ He had long-since wanted to have some fun with these nutters!

Suddenly his senses picked up irregular movements with the margins of his vision, plus some rumbling-crashing noise on the hillslope above the roads’ last turn, where a small foot path wound its way downward. Some larger stones and gravel came tumbling down, and with it a slender figure who stumbled along and desperately tried to stay upright within the down-sliding material. The cloud of dust briefly swallowed the person when the hill-slide crashed onto the road, just as the bikers who had slightly reduced their speed to keep clean of the slide thundered closer. Surprisingly, as the slide came to a halt and the dust cloud started to settle, the figure emanated from it, upright without stumbling or limping, even starting to run in controlled, powerful strides down the road, away from the approaching riders. A woman in tight-fitting clothes, obviously a practised runner by the sight her fluent movements, and obviously not severely injured by being caught in the gravel slide. As she drew nearer, her gaze set onto a nearby downhill hiker trail that started from the viewpoint, Lucifer could make out that she was covered in dust to a point that mostly obscured her skin and clothes’ colour, except for some red bleeding scratches on her right leg, arm and forehead and a long honey-coloured braid with one completely white streak in it. Foreseeable, she was unable to outrun the approaching bikers.

They closed in on her and encircled their new-found prey. He could clearly hear their gleeful shouts over the uproar. The runner had turned around and to face them, her back to him and he wondered if she had noticed him at all. Suddenly his mind’s version of Chloe popped up from his memories, unwanted but lively, oh ever so lively! “ _We need to help her!_ ” And of course she would say that! He could clearly see her determined features before his inner eye, down to the wrinkle between her brows. His minds’ version of her even poked him in the chest with one finger to get him going. “ _Yes, I know that we should, stop it, detective! It will be my pleasure for a bit of fun-play, anyway!_ ”, he murmured aloud. He briefly wondered if his painful human feelings were driving him insane so that he started talking to himself. Annoyed with the unwanted reminder of (and from) his detective, Lucifer stomped out his cigarette. Bloody hell, would he ever be allowed to smoke one entire cigarette in peace? (He would suspect his Dad’s interference if it wasn’t something so insignificant!). So he slowly set into motion, hands in his pockets, strolling towards the scene.

“ _Hey, aren’t you that white horse bitch that interfered with Sinnerman’s business, hiding that traitor Jannik? Handing him over to the police for protection so that he escaped his punishment? I know your description! It has to be you! Now we got you, now we finally know your damn dirty face!_ ” he heard one Devils Army guy shout at her, not noticing his own irony, with the runner covered in dust. Lucifer could tell that the muscular guy with grey-streaked greasy long hair held in a ponytail was the leader of the little gang. Greasy-Hairs parked his bike and approached the runner menacingly. “ _You know what happens to traitors – we drag them to the dungeons and they never appear again! But first we will teach you a lesson, horse bitch!_ ” He licked his lips and grinned. Completing their package delivery for Sinnerman to Vegas AND catching the mysterious, ghostly Mojave Desert white horse myth who always popped up in unexpected places, hiding traitors they chased after, all in one go! Oh, man, he was some lucky son of a bitch! Don Vittorio, who directly reported to Sinnerman, would reward him so much! He’d be drinking the finest bourbon and he’d be fucking the most salacious of Don Vittorio’s whores tonight! He could nearly taste in his mouth the fat nipples of that blonde luxurious whore with the raspy voice he’d set eyes on the last time he was at Don Vittorio’s gambling den. The slender, muscular runner was not really to his liking, he preferred curve-rich blondes, but a good rape always sparked his appetite. When they were all through with her she would just whimper for mercy. He grinned, enjoying the arousal he already felt at the prospects while his biker buddies cheered. The lean, mouse-haird guy was cackling like a blearing goat while they roared their encircling bikes around the woman.

The runner's dishevelled braid swung back and forth as she steadied herself and observed her attackers. She did not respond to Greasy-Hair. Although Lucifer was sure that she must be afraid to death this was not what her body language conveyed. Rather, she radiated an attitude of “ _I will hurt you as much as I can and go down fighting_ ” that started to pique his interest.

With a sudden movement she dashed backwards and collided deliberately with one of the bikers who had two metal frisbees in each earlobe and metal rivets all over his leather jacket. He was short and overweight with a wobbly belly, while the other three were not. Lucifer thought that she may have made him out as the weakest foe. She had slammed her elbow backbards against his adams apple in her backwards jump ehich gave her a spin-back she used to her advantage. While her hit caused a gurgle, she had grabbed Frisbee Earlobes’s right wrist and left ear – and in the next moment, she had sent him over her shoulder so that he crashed heavily into the ground. His bike went forwards another few meters in slow motion and toppled over onto its left side, front wheel still spinning. The runner immediately used the opening and jumped over the fallen bike’s front wheel. In the move, she snatched the bottle of water from her hip and whirled it at Greasy-Hairs the moment she landed in an upward angle. It hit the DA squat leader square in the face with surprising force and broke his nose with an audible crunch, followed by spraying droplets of blood and a loud howl. Two down, three upright: The runner dashed past Lucifer in her attempt to break free while the three remaining bikers, shouting and cursing, chased after her.

She headed for the steep, downwards-curving hiking trail that started at the left corner of the viewpoint area, just behind Lucifers Corvette. Her intentions were clear to Lucifer who watched her moves in delight: If she got there, the bikers would not be able to follow the steep tiny trail on their bikes. And her running condition, as it seemed, would make sure that none of them would be able to chase after her either.

Later, Lucifer could have sworn to Dad that he had heard a breathless “help me” when she dashed past him. But when they discussed it months later, bantering, she always insisted that she had _just_ been panting.

However, he did not need an invitation, he was happy to oblige. He grabbed the first biker of the three chasing after her, a broad-shouldered tattooed guy by his belt and collar, lifted him off his bike and threw him forcefully into the next approaching one, the smaller, rat-teethed blonde with the blearing cackle, knocking him off his bike with number one. Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed a piece of dead wood from the floor and hauled it into the spokes of numero très bikes’ front wheel, with a very satisfying effect: That particular member of the “Devils Army”, a Hispanic stubbly guy with over-large teeth, took flight in a nice graceful arc, arms and legs flailing useless (moth wide open, large teeth on full display). He crashed down heavily in front of his Corvette and lay still in a crumpled heap.

Lucifer briefly shuddered at the thought that the little rat might have demolished his beloved Corvette! Dusting off his hands and arranging his cufflinks, he proceeded to fat Frisbee Earlobes who was struggling to get up after the runner had knocked him off his bike, and lifted him up, dangling, from his left hand, using his height to his advantage. “ _Dearie me, you poor sod! First flattened by one weak injured girl….”_ He imitated sadness on Earlobes’ behalf. _“And now, look at you, tsk, tsk… facing the disapproval of the Devil!”_ Lucifer’s velvet voice had suddenly dropped one octave with the last words, shaking Earlobes slightly, summoning the first sparkles of hellfire into his shining black eyes. The fat man’s demeanour instantly turned from “how dare you” to “submissive” – of course he did, no backbone to be found in this one, Lucifer concluded. Earlobes chocked for help and tried to free himself, his thin legs under his large belly kicking. “ _Surely you know, deep in your heart, that your behaviour deserves punishment? So, tell me, now: How am I to punish you properly, hmm…? Let’s see… Classic-style Hell, sulphur and fire? Or should I rip your balls off and make you juggle them…? Or..._ ” Lucifer cocked his head to one side as if he expected an answer from the chocking and spluttering former-bully-now-coward still dangling from his grip.

Suddenly, Lucifer’s devilish grin brightened. “ _Well, well,_ now _I know what to do with you!_ ” he beamed as he informed Earlobes. “ _Punishment by humiliation it will be, then, starting with your boss!_ ” He loosened his collar-grip on Earlobes but brought his knee up, so that the dropping fat man’s privates crashed into his knee cap. “ _Sorry, you’ll have to wait a bit for yours, darling!_ ” he purred. Earlobes fell flat to the floor, howling, writhing and panting, holding his family jewels.

Greasy-Hairs, meanwhile, had pulled himself up, his front sparkled with the blood leaking from his swelling nose, drawing his gun from behind and hissing with all the hatred he could muster “ _You win pay fon tnis, we win kinn you!_ ” Only that his lines failed to make a proper impression, as they reminded Lucifer on his collection of Lucky Luke first-print comic books and the stories therein. A short glance over his shoulder told him that the first three DA members, battered, struggled to get up again. Good, so he'd have a nice audience… with a sudden pang he missed Maze, and even felt a bit guilty. How much fun she would have had, here with him, at his side!

“ _Sorry to disappoint, but I do not think I will”._ He tilted his head in mock concern, giving Earlobes on the soil another casual kick to keep him down _. “I rather think that you need to be taught some_ manners _. A task that has, unfortunately, been completely neglected in your youth!_ ” he started to walk towards greasy-hair. “ _But never fear, your educating devil is here! Never too late to learn something new!_ ” Greasy-Hair narrowed his eyes, took aim and fired the first shot at the approaching devil which hit Lucifer square in the upper left torso. Only without any visible effects. Instead, the Devils’ grin broadened. Immortality really came in handy… _without the detective being near_ … he quickly yanked his thoughts back and directed them towards his prey instead. “ _WHO the hell ARE you? You should die! Die! DIE, you bloody demon! TAKE THIS!_ ” now the leader screamed, as he fired the entire magazine at the approaching Devil.

“ _How DARE you! I CREATED all the demons in hell since I AM the DEVIL!"_ His eyes flashed with a glowing red now. _"You shall never dare DISRESPECT my name AGAIN!”_ Lucifer roared, in part really pissed, but also for the fun of their reactions. All five Devils Army members later swore that the voice they had heard had a deep, eerie, otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down their spines.

And as he closed in with his face transforming, as Greasy-Hairs fired his last shot without any effects and as the leaders’ face turned into a fearful mask, he added, as an after-thought, “ _And I do, at any rate, really disapprove of your behaviour towards women…_ ” Lucifer snatched the leaders’ useless gun away and threw it effortlessly behind him, where it sailed over the viewpoints’ fence and into the abyss. In one moment the leader peered into a gruesome face with red fiery hell-blazing eyes, too shocked to move a finger, and in the next moment he found himself grabbed by the neck and turned over his bike, with his backside sticking up, legs kicking, while Lucifer broke the long, sturdy metal antenna off the bikes’ end, twirling it around his hand with a swishing noise. It then followed that the “Devils Army” leader, nicely on full display to his men, received a special (alas old-fashioned) treatment. Since it was as plain as day that this one had gloated in causing pain and humiliation to others, likely since his early young bullying days, Lucifer decided that turnabout was just fair play. And who knows, it was never too late for new sensations and for the changes they might bring!

Straightening his clothes and dusting off his hands, he felt content with himself. He hummed a little as he entered the Corvette and drove back to Highway 15. _That_ had been a distraction worth the effort! He even had managed to forget the detective for about 20 minutes, which was an achievement, compared to his previous state of mind. Of course, the detective would not have approved of his actions, _she would have_ … he yanked his thoughts back. Instead he turned the music on (for distraction), mocking the beaten DA squad he could see in his rear mirror laying on the ground or over their bikes with thundering orchestra sounds of Richard Wagner’s “Valkyrie ride” as he drove off, downwards, into the sunset.

The Corvette and its driver left a battered and sufficiently humiliated “Devils Army” of five behind who, as they tried to adjust their backsides onto their bike seats, swore to each other to never, ever talk about this… special encounter. Within their organization, however, they were not useful any longer. Because they did never, ever shut up about the necessity to adopt a new bikers’ club name, claiming that all Hell would break loose if they didn’t. Because they were absolutely sure that the Devil disapproved.


	2. Brotherly memories, multi-miracle fears and a ghostly encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer takes a helpful trip down memory lane, back to his first days in L.A. with Amenadiel. Are there more miracles created by his father? And did he just meet one?

The sun had set and the glorious colours began to fade into turquois and blue. The east-facing velvet, dark blue sky sprinkled with the first emerging stars. As Lucifer descended the winding road towards Barlow, the air was getting cooler towards the bottom of the valley. He was satisfied with himself and how he had handled the art of distraction. Runner saved, bikers punished, a good Tuesday altogether! If only he could find himself an acceptable whiskey or three!

The runner must have had escaped down the steep trail long before he had finished his back-end ministrations on the “Devils Army” nutters. A pity, he thought, he would have loved to satisfy his curiosity about her. He recalled the fleeting moment when her wild, green-brown eyes had bored into his with an odd mixture of pledge, gratitude and determination. The next second she had whirled past him with these sweeping efficient strides. The encounter had left him with the strange awe-inspiring feeling of unexpectedly meeting a wild, untamed animal. It reminded him on an event some 15 millennia ago that he recalled as if it had been yesterday….

**********************

He and Maze had been hunting down an errand soul of a chief warlord killer and rapist from the eastern Mediterranean who had escaped Hell through one of the hell-mound cracks in the middle Rhine valley. Lucifer had been gliding low through the ice-age Rhine valley towards a stone abris overlooking the scenery to search the caves there. He had landed, folded his wings, sending out his senses towards the runaway soul. As he stepped around a large boulder close to the entrance, he had himself suddenly found eye to eye with a fully grown cave lioness who had just left her cave for hunting. She had stopped and stared at him with yellow-green eyes intensely without blinking, without fear nor thread, just high-alert. Eye to eye was quite literal in this case, because the cave lioness’ head was, typical for her species, nearly as high as his, her shoulder height and length equalled that of a small Arabian horse. Of course the lioness had immediately recognized him as a divine being, so that his sudden, swooping unfurling of his wings, stretching them menacingly with the sharp pinions stretched out, was more of a show-off move than really necessary. The lioness had blinked, growled lowly, then moved gracefully out of his path to let him pass. Maze, who had arrived just at that moment by foot, rolled over with pearling laughter when she took in the scene – the Lord of Hell, wings outstretched, to scare away an animal! Hilarious! During the next half hour of their hunt she really gave him a hard time, until he was really miffed, while she burst into laughing each time she looked at him!

It was one of the few times where he had found it hard to explain to her why he had done it in the first place. His move had been reflexive, sparked by the wonder of the sudden encounter with the lioness. It was, he had noticed, an acknowledgement of the strength and beauty of the creature. It had somehow _deserved_ a divine echo.

********************

Yes, that moment of awe was exactly the feeling he had encountered during the brief glance of the runner into his eyes. Usually, it was exactly the feeling _he_ inspired in others, particularly women, he knew that all too well. Thus it felt completely _odd_ to have it bestowed upon him by a dirt-covered, bruised runner. He mused if, maybe, there were more miracle women in the world, besides Chloe…?

Then, all of a sudden, it struck him like a blow and exploded like fireworks in his chest: _Had his father created even more miracles, maybe a whole bunch, just to make sure that he’d hit one of them? For him to become intrigued, attached, and then fall for her (or him) like he had fallen for Chloe…?_ Lucifer started to breath heavily, overwhelmed by a nauseating wave of fear – fear of being controlled endlessly, fear of being still imprisoned as if he were back in Hell, fear of being a puppet, and most of all fear of _her_ being a puppet. It was driving him to the edge of paranoia. He panted, gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles whitening. What the desert climate could not achieve, the agonizing fear of both of them being enslaved did: He started sweating and his head began to spin. He slowed down the Corvette as he approached the first solitary farm grounds to try and calm himself, to think, to get a grip. The engine died. A dog barked, but the lights in the house in a distance stayed off.

Lucifer buried his head in his hands, elbows on the steering wheel. He wanted to shout, cry and rage in frustration. A few dry sobs escaped him, shaking his long frame. Why could he not just be his own man? It was all he’d ever wanted! And for that he was punished in every way possible, be it in Heaven, Hell and now here, on earth, where he had sought refuge! Punished by being controlled through his feelings for her…. He tried to get a grip on himself, breathing down the onslaught of feelings. Finally, he rubbed his face, messed his hair and finally started to take in his surroundings.

The leaves of the nearby woods on the right rustled in the soft night-time breeze, dark tree silhouettes on the right, visible against the dark blue night sky. Animals snorted and chewed peacefully to the left. Cows, he recognized their sounds in his swirling brain. The sweet sound of burbling water pouring into an animal drinking through was audible. He heaved a sight and got out of the car, closing the door with a snap.

He tried to analyse the situation, as he’d learned so skilfully over the last year from the det…. _Shit_. There she was again. Chloe’s beautiful face, smiling at him, encouraging him, swam into his view. “ _Let’s review the facts first!_ ” he heard her say in his memories. _No more, no more, he had to distance himself…_  The pain cut through his heart like a lighting stroke, again. He scolded himself. He would never get over her if he did not stop remembering her at every little instance that popped up!

It took all his strength to bring himself back to the analysis he had to do: If there were, indeed, more miracles running around, HE must have used other siblings than Amenadiel to bring them to live, ordering blessings. Amenadiel had sworn to him that he’d never been sent to do a blessing before or after the one that had brought Chloe into existence. How likely was it that He had done that? Lucifer dug deeper into his memories. His only source of information was Amenadiel and what he might have said, involuntarily, or what he may have omitted.

*********************************

A sunny day near the pier of Santa Monica swam back into his memories… he had left Hell just a few months ago, really started to have fun in L.A., but he had Amenadiel sticking to his heels like a wart plaster, the latter trying every method he could think of to get him to resign back to his former job. Lucifer recalled Amenadiel’s mild “Big-Bro Heaven-gossiping” approach, to try to soften him up and get into his good books. They had sat in a beach Café, with him sipping a strong black double Espresso to complement his Whiskey, while Amenadiel sipped on the straw of an alcohol-free “sex-on-the-beach”, with a little red umbrella in it. Back then, his big bro still had had his powers and was disgustingly full of himself (despite his girlish drinking habits). “ _…you know, Father is not interfering so much with mankind any more the last two or three centuries, anyway. Maybe HE’s annoyed that mankind learned so much about his creations and the rules behind them, we don’t know. Yeah, the humans call it science and they get better and better at it… all your doing with that apple, once, you know?”_ Amenadiel had flashed him a toothy grin, while Lucifer flirted and wiggled his eyebrows at the long-haird barista with the formidable backside who smiled back at him as if she saw the sun rising. _“But them humans, they used their learnings and caused so much mayhem with all these awful wars over the last century…”_ Amenadiel had chatted on, not noticing Lucifers’ flirty preparations for the next nights’ desire-and-sex activities. _“Hey, did the wars not really swamp you down there with sinner souls that deserved thorough punishment…? It was surely good that you were down there in charge and gave them their due…”,_ at which Lucifer had growled and flashed his eyes at Amenadiel in annoyance.

No fond memories to be found there! Wars always filled the cells of Hell like nothing else did. And the crimes that had to be punished were sometimes so horrific that, even after eons in Hell, it still made his wings curl which was saying something. That malicious doctor who had conducted horrific medical experiments on helpless women and children; or the military responsible for ordering Napalm bombardment of peaceful villages; or the land-seeking raiders who, in the name of ethnic cleaning, had slaughtered entire families with machetes… Lucifer’s memories swept over the long que of nefarious Nazis, genocide generals and all their cowardly compliant co-workers. They all justified their actions somehow in their rotten hearts, particularly during times of war. Many of them did not even see the cruelty of what they had done and thus self-guilt would not keep them in Hell. Thus they had to be locked up and they got special demon treatment. Although that was fun sometimes, particularly when he could make use of weak spots such as arachnophobia or cetophobia, Lucifer had hated those war times more than anything.

Sensing that he had hit a wrong track, Amenadiel had quickly changed gears, rambling on _. “Dad got radio-silent on the humans lately and most of us work on auto-pilot, anyway. If someone answers prayers, it is more the kinder-hearted ones of our siblings, you know, Gabriel, for example, with an occasional blessing here and there. Dad gave him that freedom five centuries ago, as a bonus to his messenger skills, after he was really pleased with him… After Gabriel encouraged this extraordinary talented Michelangelo Buonarrotti towards finishing the pictures in the Sistine Chapel. Dad particularly liked the one depicting the creation of Adam by Him.”_ Amenadiels tactics had worked, Lucifer had let himself get distracted. _“You mean the one where Michel-A drew us as fat putty heads with wings, surrounding Dad who looked like Santa Claus? And where he drew Him and His Putty hordes in the shape of a cross-cut human brain?”_ Lucifer’s grin had morphed into a mischievous smirk. _“Mmh, that was all I managed to convince Michel-A to do, later, after Gabé’s visit…”_

Amenadiel looked briefly as if he’d bitten into a citron. “ _You did – what?_ ” he inquired, taking in Lucifer’s smirk. Amenadiel rolled his eyes at his mischievous younger brother who seemed so – unchanged. There was not one prank Samael hadn’t concocted and carried out in Heaven in their younger days!

But as the stoic he was, Amenadiel went on, following his narrative _“…or Raphael with his healing powers, he simply loves to help humans. He is the one who answers most prayers anyway and Dad allows him to do some healing or blessing, mostly. Occasionally Raph gets into some tight spot with Him when he has overstepped and done too much good, so that even the humans start to recognize that there’s some divinity at work. Or Azrael, when someone has a nasty illness and wants to leave before their time has come, for the Silver City…. When they pray to her to get them, she sometimes does, if they suffer too much. You know her, she has a sweet heart. She’s particularly gentle with children if they die premature.”_ Amenadiel paused briefly. Both brothers silently remembered their younger sister. After Lucifer’s fall she had immersed herself completely in the duty their Father had bestowed upon her as the Angel of Death(#). “ _Well, Michael never does anything of the sort, it’s beneath him to answer prayers”_ Amenadiel had continued, in gossiping mode. _“You know him, he’s just Fathers loyal right-hand Sword, and proud as hell…_ ”

Amenadiel had noticed his (literal) mistake of mentioning Michael, and fell silent. Lucifer’s smile had frozen into a mask. Both brothers fell for the horrendous memory of the night the young, formerly carefree Archangel Samael had been condemned to Hell. Of their brother Michael, driving a spear mercilessly though both of Samael’s wings who was kneeling before him, chained down, nailing them together in an odd angle. Samael had been completely unable to save himself when he fell: He burned so bright that it created the impression of a blinding-white, falling star heading downwards, like a comet, as the first morning light dawned. It was the very same day humans discovered how to use fire for the formation of steel tools. Of the plough, and of the sword.

Lucifer had closed-up, hiding behind his well-trained mask of indifference and arrogance. He snarled at Amenadiel that he _did not_ _care_ _in the slightest_ about _anything_ his bloody bastard of a Dad did to humanity, as long as he left him alone! And as he ranted at his Dad, he (skilfully he hoped) distracted Amenadiel from the insight that he had, secretly, enjoyed it a bit too much to hear about his favourite three siblings (*). Eons of not seeing them, of not enjoying each other’s company as it used to be… joking around, playing pranks, grooming each other’s wings… heavens lost. Which Amenadiel knew all too well, of course, and had used to soften him up. Although Raphael, Gabriel and Azrael had followed him in the rebellion for free will, Father had selected _him_ as the main culprit and punished him, the flippant, unworthy and disappointing son, as an example to all of the angelic host. The worst of it all was that Michael, insisting that he carried out their Fathers’ orders, had condemned his beloved siblings, particularly his little sister, to watch as he was tortured and then cast down to burn. Lucifer did not blame them for getting a pardon that he had never received. He simply missed them, badly. Still. After millennia.

**************************

Lucifer’s resurfaced from his trip down memory lane to his current problem of looming multi-miracle fears. _Amenadiel is neither a skilled nor a general liar_. _He’s blunt, sometimes to proud and not questioning Dad’s orders, but since he knows what an awful liar he is, he mostly keeps as close to the truth as he can._ So that gossiping of his six years ago had likely been genuine, true Heaven-news, tossed out as a bait towards him to remember old times, sink back into the ranks, and obediently go back to Hell…. Lucifer snorted at the thought of his older brothers’ illusions over his implied longing to obey or do what he was asked to do. Hell had thoroughly changed him, not only his skin and bone but also his once carefree being. Lucifer did not leave a doubt and made his point crystal clear, finally, when he had burned his wings, since cutting them off had not been enough to make his point.

Back to the multi-miracle thought, now: HE could have ordered _different_ siblings to do his bidding, another one each time He ordered it. However, if the angel gossip machine was still working as it had, when he was there, sooner or later they would have known of each other’s orders. Particularly some of his younger siblings, the lower-ranked angels, _loved_ to brag about the tasks they were given by Him. And Amenadiel “The Faithful”, in charge of law and order of the heavenly host, would have known it exactly. Analysing the situation, Lucifer gained more and more confidence that Amenadiel had not lied to him at any point. When he had pushed him up the wall in the interrogation room recently, when Chloe had been poisoned and they were chasing the antidote, Amenadiel had looked so shocked and in disbelief at the accusation that he might have been the one carrying out such a plan with Chloe on Dad’s orders.

It logically followed that the runner woman was not very likely to be the outcome of a blessing, nor was there a high likelihood of multiple miracle humans. If so, the runner could just have been the result of a kind act of Gabé or Raph towards a couple. But not a blessing that was meant to interfere with him and put more miracles into his path. Lucifer heaved a sigh, run his fingers through his already dishevelled hair and leaned forwards on the window frame of his car, feeling exhausted, again.

He pushed himself up again, turned around and leaned against the corvette. He took his cigarettes out of his breast pocket, held one with the tip shielded against the soft night breeze, clicking the lighter. The damn thing refused to work and gave just feeble sparks. He snarled in frustration and threw the stupid thing away. It hit something furry with a muffled sound, followed by an offended “ _mooo!_ ” Well, fine, now humans around: Lucifer ignited his cigarette by staring at its tip and sending out his powers instead, with the cigarette tip glowing orange-red immediately. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke into the air. After a few more draws, he walked a few meters towards the woods and stared into the field to the left. Behind the fence the animals surrounded the through, chewing sleepily (except for a brown cow with one white ear who eyed him nervously). Their gentle breathing and snorting, the rustling woods and the dripping water and the cigarette combined slowly soothed his vibrating nerves.

\-------------------------------------

He looked up at the sky. The milkyway stretched across the sky, glowing bright without the haze of L.A. Lucifer recognized every star like an old, comforting friend. He leaned onto the fence with his forearms. Head turned upward, he drank in the beauty of the clear starlight, inhaling softly with slightly opened lips, closing his eyes.

He heard her before he saw hear. From the distance towards the hillslope, light regular footsteps echoed, drawing nearer. Her silhouette came into view, slender, braid brushing her back. She seemed to run barefoot, touching the ground with her forefeet, not rolling over the heels which gave her pace something floating. She slowed down and walked. Silent as a cat, she approached the animals who seemed completely undisturbed, still rehashing, just lazily turning their heads towards the newcomer. She chuckled softly, then mimicked some low grumbling sounds the cows made in return and tiptoed closer. Lucifer moved ten meters backwards into the shadows of the woods to observe her. She moved her head in all directions and it seemed as if she proved the air with nose and ears. Then, satisfied, she knelt down before the through, scooped water up and drank. Of course! She had used her water bottle to knock out the Devils Army leader. She had to be thirsty, he thought. She had obviously run the last 5 miles without water. _Impressive_. As he watched her, still in the “wild animal observation” mode, she began to undress. Obviously she wanted to wash more than her face, hands and forearms. At that, he suddenly became aware that he was staring and that she was a person, not a wild deer or something. Although he did not mind seeing her naked in the slightest (if she decided to bathe in that through), he preferred such things to be consensual. Moreover, he wanted to learn more about her and her potential miracle status, which meant that he had to make himself known to her in some way that did not scare her away.

He decided on “ _I’m just, by coincidence, strolling around here_ ” attitude and took some steps towards the fence again (he refrained from whistling a tune, too much of a cliché, he decided). Although she could not have heard him, due to the splashing noises she made she was upright in the blink of an eye as if she had known that he was there.

“ _Oh, it is you, then!_ ”, she said when she got a clear view of him in the starlight. Her voice was deep, a bit raspy and sounded vaguely familiar to him. She hesitated a moment, moved closer, but stopped in more than double the distance than normal people would to talk to each other. He recognized the silver-white streak of hair running from her left forehead into the long braid. She moved her head a bit from the left to right and back and eyed him intensely, then smiled. “ _I offer you my heart-felt gratitude for your generous help up there on the highway_ ” she spoke in her slightly hoarse voice, earnest. “ _And I am grateful to see that you have not suffered any damage at the hands of these… criminals_ ” Usually, he would now have thrown in a flirty remark about how _they’d_ suffered at _his_ hands, but he skipped it as she went on, “ _Without your interference, I would have lost my… physical integrity, probably my life and, worst of all, my freedom_ ”, she added, her raspy voice now filled with emotion. Then she put her hands together as if praying and bowed gracefully to him. As she straightened up, she slowly tilted her head from side to side and watched him, as if listening to something.

Her last remark touched him deeper than he had thought possible. Freedom, indeed… “ _Yes_ ”, he muttered in response, “ _yes, there is nothing worse than being denied freedom…”_ Then he added, louder _“And you’re welcome_ , _it was my pleasure_ ”, falling back into his standard charming tones, stretching the word “pleasure” in a playful way. Only that his feeble attempt to distract from his own feelings was ruined by the burning cigarette which had finally reached his fingers. He hissed, threw it down and stomped it out. She chuckled a bit, and when he looked up he saw that she smiled at him in a knowing, almost _motherly_ way. This puzzled and again worried him a bit: She was, obviously, _not_ drawn to him in the way most women where. Was she really another miracle, then, or was she just exhausted from her long run, or was the distance still too large for his charms to work on her?

“ _May I ask you a question?_ ” his curiosity was getting the better of him. She stood relaxed but still in a distance and opened her hands in an inviting gesture. “ _How did you know that I was there? You were splashing, I thought you would not be able to hear me. So, what was it: Did you see me, hear me or..._ ”, he hesitated, “… _smell me…?_ ” he added, a bit embarrassed. “ _And_ w _ho the bloody hell are you?”_ he blurted out.

“ _That was definitely more than one question_ ”, she replied in her deep voice. “ _But no mysteries there. Just a medical explanation. I have a strange, undesired “gift”_ (she put the word in quotation marks with her index fingers) _which is the result of a head injury 15 years ago. I am overly emphatic and can sense people’s emotions and intentions, for the better or worse.”_ She hesitated, then added: _“More like a curse, to be honest, and overwhelming when I’m around larger crowds. The closer the person, the more intense their vibes get.”_ Lucifer noticed that his mouth was a bit open at this strange explanation and closed it. Could it be all that simple? Or was she one of his younger siblings, maybe one who was born after he had fallen?

_“And before you may ask: No, I’m not Jedi, can’t read your mind like_ that _,”_ she added. The sentence flushed back memories of his first encounter with the detective and a sharp piercing pain seared through his heart at the thought of Chloe. _“What…? Are you ok?”_ she asked, taking one step closer, involuntarily proving her words true, without intending to do so. _Damn! What did she get from him…?_ “ _N… Nothing… for you to worry about_ ” he croaked, taking a step backwards in return. As always, he had managed to phrase his response to be true, but still serving as a shield to hide behind them. She nodded, folded her arms and eyed him, likewise curious. “ _Nothing”, she echoed. “Mmmh, I see”._ A pause.

“ _Since you saved me, I need to be honest with you: I sensed a persons’ presence when I arrived, then I saw your figure when you stood there, with your arms on the fence.” “Oh, nothing supernatural. Your cigarette glowed,”_ she explained, a smile in her voice. _“You were curious about me, but all in all, I could sense that your intentions were not evil. Not at all._ ” And that your sadness kills you, she added to herself. She touched her left forehead, rubbing it and flattening her hair backwards, then looked up and smiled mischievously.

“ _You know, when I acted as if I wanted to undress, I actually checked out what kind of man you were_ “, she told him, matter of fact. “ _And I recognized that it was you, the one who stood between me and the bikers only after you spoke. Sorry about that move, but I had to check. Too many bad experiences. ….and I was curious as well_ ”, she added as an afterthought. She nodded, adjusted her running clothes. Lucifer chuckled. “ _Well, so glad I passed your little test! Although I would not have objected if you had… Wait, please! Hey!” S_ he had started to turn around. The conversation was obviously finished for her and she cut his innuendos short by leaving. _“Wait, who…_ ” Lucifer was startled. _She did not react to him at all! Damn, that was not normal!_

She looked back over her shoulder, stopped in her tracks, and sighed. “ _As to who I am…? I’ve been called many names, throughout my long life. I am just what people want to see in me. A ghost, a saintly saviour, a soul-doctor eremite, or a mad ultramarathon runner. Your choice._ ” Before Lucifer could offer her a ride or throw another question at her, she had melted back into the shadows under the starry sky. But he could hear the soft thuds of her regular footsteps fading away as she left.

No ghost, then. But definitely a riddle. If divine or earthy remained to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) The way the relationships between the siblings are depicted follows the lines of a lovely fanfic story (not on AO3 I think), "The Bond between Brothers" by Occasionalreader, to be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12462580/1/The-Bond-Between-Brothers  
> (#) My take on Azrael here is close to that in the wonderful story by PixelbyPixel, "Death takes a Holiday", to be found here:   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312970/chapters/22802144

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: I really had fun exploring Lucifer's more devillish side here, as he is always held back in the show. I think he did have (his) fun, too.
> 
> To "borrow he characters for writing practice" is a reference to the lovely Antarctic_Echoes. I laughed so hard when I first read her statement!
> 
> Note towards "Autobahn": On a German Autobahn (Highway) you have parts of it where you can drive as fast as you want. In more curvey or non-linear, dangerous or junction parts, the limit is mostly be restricted as it is in many other countries of the world. Where there is no speed limit you will, say, when driving on the middle lane, be occasionally overtaken by heavy-engined BMW, Mercedes or Porsche cars (and now by the the ocassional Tesla). Speeds up to 240 km/h (about 150 mph) will then let your car in the middle lane, driving at already 145 km/h (90 mph), vibrate in a kind of air shock wave. So this can even be a bit scary. However, since the car industry is quite strong in Germany, it may take decades until general tempo limits will be in place. At the moment, G. even gets tourists (e.g. from the US) who come to G. to book an Autobahn driving tour for the fun of it... nay, not joking.


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